They say,
The stars you see today are a glimpse of what they were –
Their light travelling from a past time,
Now long gone.


And I wonder,
oh heart of my hearts,
if my grief from your passing took the same path-
Eight years for the tears to reach my eyes.


And these tears
Have continued to flow,
like the river Nile, your home,
where they will forever be buried.



Yesterday, in the mirror,
I saw your smile reflected in my eyes,
and like the spark of those stars,
I yearned that your voice could break through the stars’ light.

This feeling –

of life,

of hope –

I fall for every time.

Every season brings

a new wave

of possibility.

Through your eyes and soul,

I’ve gazed –

and found my mirror

in a sea

of brown eyes and butterflies.

On days like today,
A Tuesday at 7 p.m.,
When the day has been long
and my head has woven a web
within itself,

Your hello,
at the end of the phone,
though one hundred and forty-two miles
away —

would have,
and could have,
erased the aches
of every day.

At 3 a.m., she was awoken

Reminded of the blessing of the day.
He walked past in a breeze—
Like an answered prayer.

Cooling the storm of her mind,
Untangling the strings
Of the world
She had created
In her mind.

Water cooling a fiery flame
She had never known
Could be tamed.

Melting the stubborn
Gates—

Her soul wanted to reach out.


But she had been down this path
Too early before.

Yet—
He stood at the end of the path.

Your presence was like a light,
Illuminating the colours
of the world.
But I stood in that doorway
and looked at you—

Mr.
Soft-eyed,
Soul-loud.
English-born,
African-raised.
Melodic voice,
Religiously sound.

Giving me butterflies
that lower my gaze.
Mr. Music,
Melody of my soul.